Old Friends and New Beginnings
by TheGirlWhoRemembers
Summary: High school AU. Harrison 'Hiccup' Haddock III is starting his freshman year at Berk Academy. He thinks it's just going to another long year of being tormented by his cousin, languishing at the bottom of the high school food chain and trying to live up to his father's reputation. He might just be surprised.


**AN: I wrote this a while ago, when HTTYD 2 came out...Originally, it was supposed to be a full, multi-chapter story, but I never got very far. The inspiration has died, I'm afraid. But I stumbled across this today, and I'm actually quite happy where it ends, so I thought I'd share it. **

**Besides- it was meant to follow the first movie. I bet you can predict what was going to happen anyway!**

* * *

><p><em>This is Berk. My hometown. We're about twelve miles north of Hopeless, and a little south of Freezing-to-Death. Yeah, those are real town names. Real inspiring, aren't they? This little cluster of towns, which we locals call The Archipelago, is located smack-bang in the middle of nowhere in Montana.<em>

A skinny, russet-haired boy with a backpack slung over one shoulder walked through a school gate, ignoring the other students around him.

_This is Berk Academy. The best (and most expensive) school in The Archipelago. We've got a great football team, the best facilities in the area, and some pretty awesome teachers. _

_So, yeah, I should be pretty happy to be starting my freshman year here today. _

_The only problem is the other students..._

_Other kids play football or ice-hockey. Other kids can actually talk properly with members of the opposite sex. Other kids like Gym, or even Art or Music._

_But I'm not interested in sports at all. I hate Gym with a passion. I'm uncoordinated, and clumsy as heck. I trip over my own feet at least once a day. I was the most socially awkward student at Berk Academy's Junior High. I love Science and Maths of all kinds. I spend my free time in the shed at my house, doing what my dad calls making a mess, and I call inventing. Sure, I have no eyebrows half the time, and I've broken a couple of things, and burnt down the shed once or twice...but I've made some pretty cool stuff, if I say so myself. Like a fully autonomous lawn mower. Dad just won't let me test it._

'Oi, Hiccup! Nice eyebrows!'

The burly sophomore laughed, and behind Hiccup, a couple of freshman girls giggled.

His reputation preceded him.

_My name's not actually Hiccup. That's just what everyone at Berk Academy calls me. I'm Harrison, Harrison Haddock III. Sounds familiar? You're probably thinking of my dad, Harold Haddock. He's a Senator. And before that, a very successful businessman. If you're looking into stocks, pick up some Haddock Industries ones. They'll be a blue-chip investment, promise. Well, as long as he never lets me take over..._

_They used to call him Stoick when he went here, probably because he's, well...stoic. He was a star quarterback, star debater, all-round popular guy...and you wonder why I hate this school?_

'Oi, Hiccup, think fast!'

He turned around...and a football hit him in the face. Hiccup suddenly found himself on the ground, with a very sore posterior.

A dark-haired, slightly-pig-faced, and rather buff freshman laughed, gesturing to his friends.

'Did you see that? It just hit him! Right. In. The. Face! Touchdown!'

_That's Stig 'Snotlout' Jorgenson. Popular guy, future quarterback, big hit with the girls. He can actually be pretty eloquent when he tries. He's also my cousin. See the resemblance?_

Hiccup picked himself off the ground with a groan, rubbing his backside. God, it was going to be hard to sit down all day...

He trudged inside, found his assigned locker, and opened it, only to have an avalanche of packing peanuts fall out.

Hiccup rolled his eyes.

'Just what I always wanted. Thanks, Ruffnut and Tuffnut.'

The Thorston twins, Thomas and Ruby, were the school pranksters and all-round mischief makers. Hiccup, unfortunately, was their favourite prank victim.

_It's going to be a long year._

* * *

><p>Hiccup got off the bus, ignoring the jeers when he fell down the steps, and trudged towards his house.<p>

The front door flew open before he could grab the doorknob.

'...And make sure he doesn't test out that lawnmower of his, Gobber!'

His father stepped out, nearly bowling him over.

'Hi, Dad.'

'Hi, son.'

He clapped a large hand onto his shoulder. Hiccup's knees buckled slightly.

'Behave for Gobber and Mrs Fierce. Don't blow anything up. Don't test that lawnmower.'

And then he was gone.

Hiccup sighed.

His dad spent a lot of time away from home. Gobber and Phelgma were great and all (His father's best friend, and Hiccup's guardian when he was away, didn't actually mind Hiccup's inventing all that much, and sometimes he even helped out, provided Hiccup didn't break anything _too _badly, and the housekeeper was a great cook) but he did miss his dad...or at least, he missed the days before...before his mum passed away...when they actually did stuff as a family.

He felt the tap of a prosthetic hand on his shoulder.

'He'll miss you, you know.'

Hiccup snorted.

'Yeah, he made _that so clear_.'

'I'm serious, lad! He might not show it, but he'll miss you. Always did. Always does.'

His young charge remained morose.

'Why don't you come inside, and have a snack? Snacks make everything better!'

'I'm not hungry.'

'Oh, come on, you're a growing lad...'

Hiccup dropped his backpack in the hallway, running a hand through his hair.

'He's always looking at me with this...disappointed scowl. Like someone skimped on the meat in his sandwich.'

Hiccup straightened and puffed out his chest, impersonating Stoick.

'Excuse me, barmaid, I think you brought me the wrong offspring. I ordered an extra large jock with beefy arms. Hand-eye coordination and physical attractiveness on the side. This here, this is a talking fishbone.'

Gobber picked up his bag and hung it on a hook.

'Now, you're thinking about this all wrong. It's not so much what you look like; it's what inside that he can't stand.'

'Thank you for summing that up.'

'Look, Hiccup, the point is, stop wanting to be something you're not. You're not cut out for football, and you're not like your father. Or me, for that matter. You're...you.'

Hiccup plodded down the hall, towards the kitchen.

'I just want to be like Dad.'

Gobber started after his charge.

'Oh, quit moping, lad! How was school?'

Hiccup rolled his eyes.

'Great. I've got some packing peanuts in my locker, courtesy of the Thorstons, and my backside is throbbing like hell. A perfect first day back.'

Gobber shook his head.

'Well, all you've got to do if you want the other kids to like you is...well, stop all...this.'

'But you just pointed to all of me!'

Frustrated, Hiccup turned away from the older man, and headed up the stairs towards his room.

'Oh, and before I forget, Gobber, I'll be home late tomorrow. There's debating trials after school.'

'Good luck, Hiccup! You'll do great!'

The skinny boy snorted.

'Yeah, of course, because I'm so good at talking eloquently in front of people, just like Dad...'

* * *

><p>Hiccup sat in the empty classroom, notebook on his lap, pencil in hand, a half-formed idea on the pages in front of him.<p>

A girl's voice broke him out of his thoughts.

'This is debating trials, right?'

Hiccup replied without looking up, voice deadpan.

'No, it's the Beaver Appreciation Society.'

She laughed half-heartedly.

An awkward silence filled the room.

'So, you like-'

'Being early? Yeah, of course. The early bird gets the worm.'

Hiccup kept sketching in his notebook.

'Actually, I was going to say debating, since this is debating trials. What's your name?'

Hiccup finally looked up at the girl. Blond hair, blue eyes, about his age...absolutely beautiful...with a headband valiantly trying to hold back her fringe...

Wait a moment...no, it couldn't be...

'_For you, milady.' _

_The little russet-haired boy knelt before a pretty blond girl with blue eyes and a headband-escaping fringe, presenting a flower crown and a wooden sword to her. _

_The round-faced girl beamed, taking the crown and sword._

'_Thank you, Sir Harry!'_

_The boy grinned._

'_Anything for you, milady.'_

What were the odds? They hadn't seen each other in years...not since they were eight...

'_Whaddya mean you won't be in my class next year? Mummy said that she asked Miss Gibson...and you promised!'_

_She punched him lightly on the shoulder. _

'_That's for breaking your promise!'_

_Wincing slightly, the eight-year-old boy took the girl's hand gently, and they both flopped onto the grass. _

'_Daddy says I'm going to another school. Berk Academy.'_

_The blond pouted._

'_But...but I'll miss you, Sir Harry.'_

_He nodded solemnly._

'_I'll miss you too, milady.'_

_He let go of her hand, holding out his pinkie instead._

'_But we'll still be friends, okay? Pinkie promise.'_

_She interlocked her pinkie with his, nodding resolutely._

'_Pinkie promise.'_

Of course, that hadn't actually happened. It was pretty much impossible for two eight-year-olds, best friends though they were, to stay friends when they didn't go to the same school and lived on opposite ends of town.

But...but here she was again...all these years later...

Hiccup grinned, mirth filling him for the first time in the last two days.

'Astrid?'

She looked confused, and he felt a stab of fear. Perhaps he was mistaken. His face reddened.

'Umm...no...err...sorry, I think I...'

'How do you-'

She stared at him for a moment, and a smile spread slowly across her face.

'Harry? Harrison Haddock?'

Hiccup grinned, letting out the breath he was holding, cheeks still red.

'Wow...you remembered me...'

She sat down beside him.

'You were pretty memorable.'

'_Trolls steal socks, Astrid! Gobber told me so!'_

'_But why would they take only the left ones? What's the difference between a left sock and a right sock?'_

He closed his notebook.

'So...you're...trying out for debating too?'

She punched him on the right shoulder.

'Ow! What was that for?'

'For asking a stupid question. Of course I am, that's why I'm here, Harry!'

He rubbed his right arm with his left.

'Wow...it's been a while since anyone's called me that.'

She frowned, puzzled.

'It's been a while since anyone's called you by your name?'

He nodded.

'Yeah, everyone calls me Hiccup around here.'

'Hiccup?'

'Yeah, no one could come up with anything to describe this much raw manliness_,_ so Hiccup it was.'

She laughed, and for a moment, he was seven, eight years old again.

'Still as witty as ever...Hiccup.'

He frowned slightly. It stung a bit, to hear her calling him that. She couldn't possibly know or understand why he was...well, considered a hiccup, but still...

But Astrid didn't notice, because at that moment, the door opened, and in came the Debating Captains. She jumped up immediately and walked over, striking up a conversation with them.

_As forward and confident and task-minded as she always was..._

Hiccup stayed seated, smiling to himself.

'_Mummy, Mummy! Look!'_

_The five-year-old held out his left hand to his mother. Around his ring finger, there was a purple hair-tie._

'_Astrid and I got married!'_

_The little girl in question punched him on the shoulder._

'_Not proper...properly married, Harry! My mummy says we're not big enough yet!'_

_Hiccup pouted._

'_But we are big! We're five!'_

'_Grown-ups have silly rules.'_

_The green-eyed boy grabbed his best friend's hand._

'_Well, when we get big, we're going to get properly married, okay?'_

_Astrid nodded, before replying. _

'_And then I'll go and work and get money, and you can stay home and cook and look after the babies!'_

_Hiccup nodded happily._

_Valka smiled, eyes twinkling with mirth._

_That night, when she was tucking her son into bed, she asked him if he'd been serious._

_He nodded, as solemnly as a five-year-old could._

'_I'm gonna marry Astrid when we get big. Defin..definitely.'_

'_But what about cooties?'_

_He shook his head, shocked._

'_Astrid doesn't have cooties! She's not icky! She's pretty and nice! Really, really pretty and nice!'_

Yes, Hiccup thought as he lay in bed that night, things were looking up.

That night, he dreamt of shoulder punches and pinkie promises, eyes the colour of the sky and fringes that escaped headbands.


End file.
